Can't sleep

As most of you might probably possibly know, this week is Reading Week for me. I'm home. I'm in Thunder Bay. Until Sunday.

I just finished watching How to Deal with my sister. I'd forgotten I'd seen it before. I saw it with Carly in theatres. I think. It was a kind of decent movie -- better than I remembered, anyway.

Bad pre-teen movies really get me going. I get very emotional, philosophical. So, as a result, I am left lying in bed wide awake. Can't sleep.

Some days I wish I could just turn around and become someone else. Not because I don't like who I am, but because I think that maybe I would feel more passion if I was in someone else's place.

Not that I'm not happy, or in love... I am very much both. But ask me the question, "Who are you?" or "What are you like?" and you probably won't get a very meaningful response.

I tell myself I know who I am and I'm not insecure or confused, but a part of me doesn't believe that. A part of me thinks that maybe I just tell myself that I know who I am and that I'm confident and certain because I wish that I was. Or maybe because I've accepted that I don't know who I am, that I have no passion, no dream, no "This is who I am and this is what I believe in and this is what I want to do for the rest of my life," no "I've known since I was a little girl," or "It's a dream I've always had." No "This is an issue that's really important to me," or "I truly believe in this," or "I volunteer in my spare time," or "work to save the sea lions."

Everyone in the movies has a passion. A gift, a talent, a dream, a goal, a purpose. A passion. I don't really know what mine is. Or if I really even have one. How do you know?

Sometimes I just wish I could be somebody new. Or if I couldn't be someone new, change drastically. Wake up one morning, cut my hair, throw away all my old clothes, buy new ones. Create a style. Something that when people see it they'll just nod and say, "That's so Justine." Something unique. Something me.

Something so that when people think of me or talk of me -- assuming anyone does I suppose -- they'll be prompted to say things like, "Wow, Justine's a really good artist," or "Hey, Justine's a great writer," or "Justine's just a really funny girl, always tellin' those jokes." Something. Anything.

The sad part is, I'm not confused. I don't sit here all day wondering who I am or trying to change myself. Ironically, even right now as I sit here typing about how I want to be different, I don't really want to be. I know this is all in the heat of the pre-teen movie drama moment. I don't want to change. I like me, I tell myself.

Yet I still don't know who I am.

I guess the sad part is, then, not that I'm not confused, but that I don't seem to care. I'm happy confused. It doesn't phase me. Doesn't bother me.

Maybe I say I want to change because I want to want to change. I feel like I should be unsatisfied and should want to be different. Maybe I'm just ashamed that I'm not unsatisfied, so I try to cover it up by pretending like I am and want to be different.

Why am I so worried about what everyone thinks?

It's like when I give someone a present and make sure to say, "I don't think you'll like it," even when I know they're gonna like it. Why do I do that? I make up reasons -- you may have heard them. That's not the point. Why do I play mind games with myself, in my own head?

Maybe I'm really sure of myself and happy with who I am, but tell people I'm not sure of myself because I'm worried that if I tell them I'm happy with myself, they'll just be like "Oh, really?" and then go behind my back: "I don't know why that Justine's so sure about herself. What has she got to be satisfied with?"

Maybe it's like that.

I'm sleepy now.

Night world.